


is this death? is this death?

by detectivemeer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Death, Past Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Past Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivemeer/pseuds/detectivemeer





	is this death? is this death?

the yellow flicker of a daffodil, tucked behind her ear. the warmth of her hand on the flat of his cheek. her dimples, her fingertips on the curved edges of her bow, of his mouth.   
  
elvis hums about blue suede shoes. on his tippy toes his head only reaches his mother's stomach. she picks him up, puts his toes over her toes, and waltzes them around and around. cotton socks on cool tile. her giant smile, the sun that fills him when she looks down.  
  
black sky, cold night. leaves under his feet. moonlight licks his heels, bursts outward from his heart. the fang, the claw, the man, the red, red, red—it's not blood, it will never be blood again, it's his pride, it's a banshee's smirk, a soft-worn-homey hoodie, a fistful of pomegranate seeds, a clock spelling midnight, the door to a house he knows in the knobs of his knuckles, the map of his tongue, the first time he knew he was loved.  
  
the gentle, gentle skin of her elbow. his hand shaking, hers sure. thunderstorms on her lips. enough power to light a city when they touch his. sweeter than sugar, the sound of her laugh. stronger than steel, the strength of her shoulders. oh, the pitter-patter of fresh love, knocking nervous on the backs of his teeth, blooming soft in the potted-earth of his heart.  
  
the guilt—guilt, guilt, guilt, guilty sinner sinned, broken boy, ghastly beast, you're a—dries, a wet brick under hot sun; he watches his past evaporate. he is empty, too light, bird-boned and hollowed out. the laughs come in beautiful peals, he has so much space inside him, they stretch out and out, from his nail beds to the wrinkles of his nose.   
  
familiar faces, unfamiliar ones. hands reaching out, pulling him back. smiling mouths, squinted eyes. he recognizes, doesn't; he knows and is unknown. warmth, peace. he closes his eyes.  
  
look at me. look at me. roar, alpha, you're stronger than this.  
  
but, he's tired of being strong. it's so nice to not worry, it's so nice to not be. what is the real tragedy:  
  
a waking nightmare, pain, suffer, blood—real blood, spilling from his gut, caught in the teeth of those he loves.  
  
or: this. he has given all he has—his humanity and breath and hands. can he not keep his own end?


End file.
